


Not Broken Just Bent by Idril's Secret

by IdrilsSecret



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrilsSecret/pseuds/IdrilsSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel and Erestor's relationship has been lined with challenges, but their love has always been strong enough to see them through. Unbeknownst to Erestor, there is one more obstacle they must overcome, but this time it could be the one that tears them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotrangel17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrangel17/gifts).



> Written for the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> Rating up to = NC-17
> 
> Requested pairing = Elrohir/Erestor would be choice #1 Or my good old standby OTP of Glorfindel/Erestor who I can read forever and ever about.
> 
> Story elements = For Elrohir/Erestor I have a prompt I'd like and I usually don't get specific but lately I love the song Just Give Me A Reason by Pink
> 
> Here's a link to the video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpQFFLBMEPI
> 
> with the lyrics I like:  
> Just give me a reason  
> Just a little bit's enough  
> Just a second we're not broken just bent  
> And we can learn to love again  
> It's in the stars  
> It's been written in the scars on our hearts  
> We're not broken just bent  
> And we can learn to love again
> 
> ~~~
> 
> I'm totally open to any situation with Fin and Res as long as Erestor is a strong character not a weak one - they are equals. If you need a prompt I love scenes where they are fighting side by side.
> 
> Do NOT include = I'm open to anything as long as it has a happy ending.

Chapter One

 

I’ve always wondered how I captured the heart of the most eligible ellon in all of Arda. Actually, if it had been up to me, it might not have happened at all. Glorfindel was the one who instigated it, and I thank the Valar every day for this rare gift.

What a mighty warrior such as Glorfindel ever found intriguing about an elf such as me will puzzle me all of my days, but I’m glad for it. Many centuries have passed since we pledged our love for each other, but it was not always an easy life with Fin. We are two very different people. He is a hero, a legendary Balrog slayer whose stories will be told for generations to come. I … well, I’m merely a counselor, master of the most complete library in Middle-earth. I like calm and quiet, order and routine. Glorfindel likes adventure, to set out in no particular direction and see where the wind might carry him. In the beginning, it was sometimes difficult for us. There was a lot to learn about each other, a lot to become accustomed to, and there were times I doubted our relationship. Glorfindel and I overcame much, and our love now is the strongest it has ever been, but the road to this form of bliss was sometimes filled with bumps and bruises. No one ever falls in love and lives happily ever after, even if it is with Glorfindel. Happily ever after must be earned, and then it must be nurtured. Only then can one say that they have found their forever. And I, by the blessings of the Valar, have found mine.

* * *

Rivendell-Early Fourth Age

It was another late night in Rivendell’s library. Erestor had started a personal project, researching his family, tracing them as far back as he could. This was one of the benefits of being master of Elrond’s library, unlimited resources.

He could be here as late as he wanted. Glorfindel was off on another mission for Lord Elrond. Since the ending of the Ring War, Fin was away a lot, acting as a dignitary representing Rivendell. Bree, Lothlórien, Lindon, Eryn Lasgalen, he had traveled to these places and many more. Once to Rohan and a few visits to Gondor. Glorfindel was gone the longest when he went to Gondor, and those were the loneliest of times for Erestor. Fortunately, this time it was a visit to Bree, which meant Fin would be home by the end of the week.

Erestor sat back in his overstuffed chair, picked up his glass of wine and smiled. He was looking forward to Glorfindel’s homecoming. The sendoff celebration had been quite adventurous, consisting of a warm fire, a fur rug in front of the hearth, and a rare vintage that Fin had brought back from the Greenwood, a gift from King Thranduil. Erestor reminisced, remembering how the elf lord’s long gilded mane draped across his bare chest, blanketing the counselor in warmth and softness. Other parts of his anatomy had been swallowed in a different kind of heat. Just thinking of it made Erestor wriggle in his chair. Fin was never far from his thoughts these days.

He reluctantly pulled himself out of his salacious reverie, set his glass down and looked at the ancient papers spread out on his desk. It was no use getting all worked up when there was no one to take care of his needs.

Erestor slid the yellowed parchments around, reorganizing his organized mess. This particular group of records was from the First Age. Tracing his parents and their lineage had been a bit of a challenge. He was so young when his parents sailed, barely past his majority. There was no other family to speak of. Relatives had either been in Valinor already, having never left the blessed realm, or they had sailed long before Erestor was born in the late Second Age. He’d discovered quite a few cousins, aunts and uncles, and was in the process of finding the marriage of one of his father’s brothers. Surprisingly, Erestor found that he’d had family living in Gondolin.

Glorfindel had told Erestor plenty of stories about Gondolin, a fascinating place from the sound of it. The shops and markets had been the finest around. People came from all over to visit the unique city. This had been Glorfindel’s begetting place, where he trained as a soldier, and eventually became chief of his own house, the House of the Golden Flower. Erestor had read much about this time in history, most of it before he officially met Glorfindel. The elf lord spoke of things that did not make it into the history books, filling in many of the blank spots.

The counselor found the records of the marital bindings and began searching for his uncle. “Ah, here it is, and it seems as though it was quite a celebration,” he said as he looked over the old recordings. Not only were other family members and close friends in attendance, but his uncle had a military escort as well. That was odd, he thought, for he’d never known any of his relatives to have been important figures in the army. This type of binding celebration was usually held for high ranking officers. In this type of ceremony, one member representing each of the Twelve Houses of the Gondolindrim made up the escorting party. They would dress in full uniform, decorated with medals and weapons, six on each side of the grand entrance. As the blessed couple entered, the officers raised their swords, making a kind of canopy that the couple would pass beneath.

He studied the list further and found Glorfindel’s name as the representative for the House of the Golden Flower. “I had no idea that he might have known any of my own kin,” said Erestor, surprised. He sometimes forgot just how very long lived Fin actually was.

Closing the book, Erestor sunk back in his chair, closed his eyes and imagined how handsome Glorfindel must have looked in his uniform, golden waves of hair cascading down his broad shoulders, a look of youth and wisdom playing on his features. If only Erestor could have been alive then to see it.

But timing was everything, and he and Glorfindel met when they were supposed to. He remembered that day, when it was announced that the mighty elf lord was coming to live in Rivendell. Everyone was so excited, gathering in the courtyard at the gates of the city. Erestor himself dressed in his finest robes, dark green silk embroidered in gold, his dark brown hair long and flowing with only a small braid on each side in the front.

Glorfindel rode in on his white steed, Asfaloth, one of the elven horses, a noble and hardy breed. Fin wore his armor and a white cape attached at the shoulders. He had shone like the sun that day, a symbol of fearlessness and strength. 

All the young ellith had run up to meet him before he could dismount. He smiled at each and every one of them, making more than a few faces blush. Erestor did not join the large group of elves in the courtyard. Rather, he stayed standing at the top of the steps that led to the main veranda of the Last Homely House, and took the role as the observer.

The sons of Elrond caught the reins of Asfaloth, steadying the horse so Glorfindel could get down. Erestor watched as the elf lord took off his riding gloves, patted his steed with a loving hand upon the neck and ruffled the mane. The counselor watched this gesture with wonder, for he had seldom seen one of the warriors connect in such a way with his mount. It was then that Erestor knew there was more to Glorfindel than just the stories and the legend. There was a softness beneath that outer shell, but one that did not take away from the might of the golden one. And with that one small gesture, Erestor felt his soul sing out.

Glorfindel handed his gloves to one of the twin brothers, and started to swing a leg over the horse’s back, but he stopped abruptly. As if in answer, the elf lord scanned the crowd until his brilliant blue eyes caught sight of Erestor standing alone and away from the fanfare. They captured each other with a vivid stare before Erestor turned away. Nothing like that had ever happened to him in the past. The feeling was overwhelming and it caught him off guard. Erestor dared not look at the elf lord again, and instead, he turned from the celebration, his hurried tread leading him to the library.

There was no explanation for what had happened, but Erestor thought it was nothing more than a moment of star-gazing … Glorfindel being the bright and shining star, of course. Infatuation was not something Erestor would ever allow himself to experience. He was a highly educated scholar, a respected counselor under the Lord Elrond. He did not swoon at the sight of someone as recognizable and respectable as Glorfindel. Erestor was above such behavior.

Presently, Erestor shook his head and took another sip of wine, “And I was a fool to think that what I experienced was nothing.” Looking back, he realized what that first connection was … inevitability. Still, it would be years before either elf acted on their captivation for one another. Erestor continued to bury himself in his work until he was appointed Chief Counselor. And his love for books assured him the position of Master Librarian. Glorfindel never stayed in one place for very long, and was absent from Imladris often, though he always returned to the city eventually. Erestor also had witnessed the many relationships that Glorfindel flaunted, returning home with a new lover almost every time. Well, it was none of the counselor’s business what Glorfindel did in his private life, but deep down, he yearned for a chance with the elf lord. These feelings were, of course, buried well within his own personal abyss, and Erestor went on believing that it was nothing more than a foolish notion.

Then one day, Erestor was thrown into a situation where they had no choice but to get to know each other. Glorfindel invited Erestor to accompany him on a hunting trip. Erestor declined the offer, of course, but Glorfindel’s charm and insistence won out. They had spent a week together, hunting in the wilds without incident, but Erestor remained suspicious, thinking Glorfindel was only looking to make another mark in his notorious bedpost. By the end of their time together, each one realized what the other had that could contribute to those missing pieces in their lives, and love soon followed. They were a perfect fit, complimenting one another most agreeably. They still had their flaws, and it took a long time to form a bond of trust and respect. Both Erestor and Glorfindel made changes and sacrifices, molding themselves into what the other wanted without letting go of the thing that made each one unique. Erestor managed to remain the self-obedient type, used to structure and stability, while Glorfindel remained the free roaming elf lord who always came home to tell an amazing story of his latest adventures. There were plenty of disagreements along the way, and the bruises and scars sometimes went deep enough to leave a mark on the soul, but it was always resolved with the fact that nothing could change what they felt deep down in their hearts.

Erestor returned to his research, looking over the guest list of his uncle’s binding ceremony. Many of the names were not familiar at all, friends, family and distant relatives. Then, to his surprise, there was Glorfindel’s name again. Not only had he been part of the ceremony, but he had been a guest as well.

In the guest book, names were listed as a married couple or a single invite. Married couples were registered as so, but single persons were listed in a column to the right. To the left was the name of the person who accompanied them, if applicable. Beneath the names was their relationship to each other. Erestor’s finger slipped across Glorfindel’s name where it was written in black ink. He took a moment to realize how long ago this was written, a small piece of history. He had of course expected to find a name to the left, and there was, a female by the name of Taura. Erestor was slightly surprised to see a female name, for he had never known Glorfindel to have any interest in the opposite sex. Perhaps she was a friend. He was, after all, the chief of his house, and it would make a nice impression to see a lovely elleth on his arm. Then, Erestor’s finger slid down to the space left for the relationship, and his heart leapt into his throat.

“Betrothed?” Erestor said aloud. “Surely this cannot be right. In all the years we have known each other, he’s never mentioned a betrothal.”

He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but the word was still there just as legibly as before … betrothed. “Well, if it is listed here, then surely there is a record of this joining somewhere else?” Erestor abandoned his wine and his comfortable chair, and went back to the library, knowing exactly where to look. His hand roamed over book after book until he found the one that listed engagements. Then he pulled the book from its shelf and went back to his office. Forgetting about his distant uncle and his wedding, Erestor started researching Glorfindel and this woman known as Taura. He searched page after page, and finally found it, a betrothal announcement and record of a ring exchange.

“What?” Erestor called out with astonishment. “Glorfindel was to marry? Why, that … that swine, that son of an orc. He lied, LIED to me. I’ll have him hung by his balls.”

That night, as Erestor laid in bed, not sleeping, staring up at the dark ceiling, he played over and over the conversation they had had so long ago. It was at the end of their hunting trip, when each one discovered how deeply they felt for the other. Glorfindel was willing to surrender his heart easily, but Erestor still had doubts. It was too good to be true, to think that Fin loved him so completely. He had known that the elf lord had many relationships, some in the past and some in the present. Like most lovers do, when everything was still new, they talked about past companions, ones who they failed to love and ones who failed to love them. And at the end of their conversation, they admitted that though they had loved in the past, none compared to what they felt for each other.

This was why Erestor could not let this ancient betrothal be taken lightly. A binding between two elves was a serious matter, and one that would not happen unless feelings were genuine. The fact that Glorfindel was willing to pledge his soul to another elf … and an elleth no less … meant that he must have felt deeply for someone else, when he had sworn up and down that Erestor was the first one who stirred his soul.

The logical side of his brain argued that it must not have been so genuine, for the marriage never took place. But the reckless side kept telling him that there was someone before himself; that those true feelings of love had existed with someone else, no matter how long ago it was. Did Fin still have feelings for this elleth? Who broke off the engagement? Had he only settled for loving Erestor? But what hurt most was the fact that Glorfindel never said anything about it. Out of all the stories of past loves and lovers, he never mentioned this betrothal, and that cut deeply into Erestor’s soul, for Erestor didn’t hold anything back. When Fin returned, he would see. He would get answers from the elf lord.

* * *

Erestor had been in counsel with some of the other chiefs all morning. There had been important matters to discuss, which left Erestor little time for seething. It was just as well. He was wearing himself thin, as his mind played over and over the thought of Glorfindel and this betrothal. He couldn’t help imagining Fin smiling down at this elleth, taking her hand and slipping a ring onto her finger, asking that she surrender her soul to him and his soul to her. Had he told her the same thing that he told Erestor, that he’d never felt this way before? It was almost too difficult to concentrate on what the others were saying. They had gotten off subject and were talking about some kind of disturbance at the outer regions of their lands.

With the meeting adjourned, Erestor gathered his things and went in the direction of the library to get back to his office. As he walked along, someone grabbed him and pulled him into an alcove covered by a curtain. Before he had time to protest, his mouth was being ravaged. It was dark in the secret room, but he knew who was kissing him with such need and desire. It had been a long while since they had been together, and as mad as Erestor was, he found it very difficult to push Fin away. He didn’t have to, as Glorfindel released his mouth and caressed the tip of the counselor’s ear with his tongue.

“I want to take you right here, Counselor,” Glorfindel whispered urgently, his strong warrior arms snaking around Erestor’s waist.

Erestor twisted to face Glorfindel, and his hand reached down to cup the warrior’s manhood through his leggings. “How badly do you want me?”

Glorfindel moaned in answer and pushed himself harder against Erestor’s hand, “Can you not feel for yourself?”

Erestor tightened his grip, “And did you get this hard for Taura?”

Glorfindel’s breath caught in his throat, “What?”

Erestor’s hand squeezed harder, making Glorfindel hunch over slightly, “Did you shove yourself into her too, as you slipped a ring onto her finger?”

Confused, Glorfindel tried to back away, but Erestor had a tight hold on him, “What are you talking abou—“

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I speak of,” Erestor demanded, and his fingers grasped Fin’s manhood in a death grip. “A betrothal! You were prepared to bind yourself to an elleth named Taura, and you brought her to my uncle’s blessing ceremony.” Not exactly how he wanted to say it, but it was out now, and Glorfindel needed to explain himself. He released his hand and Glorfindel backed out of range.

The elf lord took a moment to register the name and the meaning behind Erestor’s ire. Then it dawned on him what was happening, “Taura? Taura of Gondolin? But how did you know—”

Erestor looked straight into Glorfindel’s eyes, “Thought you’d keep that little secret to yourself, did you?”

“It was a very long time ago. I hardly remember it.”

“You pledged your soul to someone, prepared for a binding, exchanged rings, and you do not remember?” Erestor berated. “I should think you would recall something as permanent as marriage. I guess I should be glad you even found your way back home, you are so forgetful.”

“You are being ridiculous, Erestor,” Glorfindel shot back.

“I am being ridiculous? Me?” Erestor looked down and hung his head as though thwarted. He waited until Glorfindel took a step towards him, and right before the elf lord reached out to touch his shoulder, Erestor swung his fist, striking Fin with a sharp blow to the jaw. “Bastard,” he said under his breath, and he left the alcove.

Halfway home ... Erestor should have known better than to think he could make it without any distractions, but it wasn’t meant to be. Approaching him was his apprentice, Lastar. He would have to stop and address the youth, and hope Fin chose not to follow.

“Erestor, I’m glad I found you,” Lastar said hurriedly. “There has been word from the sons of Elrond, trouble at the borders. They came upon a group of elves traveling past the plains that had been besieged upon.”

“Injuries?” Erestor asked.

“Yes, one serious but most were minor. Luckily none were fatal,” Lastar said. As Erestor started walking away hurriedly, he stepped quick to keep up.

“And this concerns me how?” Erestor asked impatiently.

“Well, Lord Elrond told me to warn—“

“Erestor!” Glorfindel called from behind, cutting off Lastar’s explanation.

Erestor kept walking. Lastar looked over his shoulder to see the gilded warrior fast approaching. Then he looked to the counselor, “Shouldn’t we stop and wait for Lord Glorfindel?”

“No,” Erestor said tersely.

“Counselor, a word please,” Glorfindel called.

Erestor ignored Fin, noticing that Lastar was falling slightly behind, “Keep up, Lastar. Now, what was it you were saying about Lord Elrond?”

“Right. He sent me to tell you that—" Again, Lastar was interrupted. Glorfindel had caught up to them, and stepped between the two elves.

“You will excuse us, Lastar. I have some unfinished business with the counselor,” Glorfindel said evenly. Erestor noted how he acted as if nothing had just happened in the alcove, though there was a red mark on his lower jaw.

Lastar bowed and started to leave when Erestor stopped him, “You will stay, Lastar. No one may excuse my apprentice but me, and I am not finished here. Go on, what were you telling me about Lord Elrond?”

For a third time, Lastar tried to relay his message, but Glorfindel put a hand on the young elf’s arm, “You may finish your business in a moment, but I need to speak with Erestor first.”

“I have nothing else to say to you,” Erestor demanded.

“Yes, you made that quite clear,” Glorfindel replied and touched his chin, “But I was not allowed a rebuttal. In my defense, I must be given a chance to explain my actions.”

“Oh, I understand your actions perfectly well. It’s your lack of information, reasoning and morals that has me peeved,” Erestor said.

“Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone to settle your differences,” Lastar interrupted, feeling as though he shouldn’t be listening to their conversation.

“Stay put!” commanded Erestor, his eyes trained on Glorfindel.

“Fine, if you want to have this out in front of your apprentice then so be it,” Glorfindel said turning to Lastar. “Do you believe in second chances?”

“Y-Yes, my lord,” Lastar stammered.

“It seems that Erestor does not. One slight mistake and he’s ready to throw everything away,” Glorfindel went on.

Erestor feigned a smile at Lastar, “And if someone withheld important information that could have altered your decision—”

Glorfindel gently pushed Lastar to the side and moved in front of Erestor. He met the counselor’s harsh stare, sadness glazing over his own blue eyes. “Are you saying you had to decide whether you loved me or not? Because in my own heart, I had no choice. I knew from the moment I saw you.”

“I thought I knew too, but you were a risk. I trusted you with my soul and now I find out that you are too eager to give yours away.” There was a venomous tone to Erestor’s voice. He had to concentrate very hard on keeping himself stern, for deep down he wanted to end this argument, forgive Glorfindel and go home to the splendor of a night of love. Being mad at Fin took a lot of wasted energy.

“It was nothing of the sort. Do you think I’ve lived all these centuries just to be frivolous with my feelings? You cannot think that.” Glorfindel said softly. “Please, Erestor, can I not explain what happened and why I did what I did? Let’s go home.”

“I would not go home with you even if ... even if . . .” Erestor paused to look around for something to use as an example. His eyes settled on Lastar, “. . . even if the enemy was invading and it was the last safe place to be.”

“Well,” Lastar said, and stopped himself, unsure if he should cut into their discussion.

Glorfindel must have heard something in the apprentice’s tone, for he abandoned his pleading with Erestor to focus on the youth, “What is it, Lastar?”

“Lord Elrond sent word. Sightings of orcs have disturbed the outer borders, unusually large groups harassing the villages on the plains. Elladan and Elrohir call for aid. There are too many spread too far out.”

Glorfindel switched into his warrior posture, “An invasion?”

“I can’t be sure, but Lord Elrond calls on every able hand to pick up his sword and be prepared to march,” Lastar informed.

Erestor wished to be relieved of this difficult situation with Fin, but not in this manner. No one wished for battle. “You must go then,” he said to the warrior.

Lastar offered his last bit of information, “This time, not just soldiers are called upon. Every elf must go.” He stopped and swallowed hard, “Even us.”

This was more serious than Erestor could imagine. Long had it been since all of Rivendell was called into battle. Invasion indeed, he thought to himself. “Come, Lastar, we shall prepare.”

“You are not going off to fight,” Glorfindel commanded.

“I will not disobey a direct order from Lord Elrond. You heard Lastar, every elf must march,” Erestor said, defending himself. “And don’t you have your own army to command?”

Glorfindel rounded on Erestor and took one of the counselor’s dark braids between his fingers, “We are not through here, Counselor. You will hear me out … eventually.” He captured Erestor’s lips and gave him a rough but quick kiss. Then, without letting Erestor have the last word, Glorfindel spun on his heal and walked off towards the soldier’s quarters to gather his troops.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 

Erestor was dressed in full elvish armor with his sword hung at his side and mounted on his steed. He waited with the other elves called to duty, many who had not served Imladris in many years. But something was to be said about the elves; once trained in combat, they never forgot. As Erestor dressed that morning, his armor seemed to mold onto his arms and chest like a second skin. He picked up his sword, examined it and felt it contour to his grasp. A few basic maneuvers with his blade and he remembered its weight and how easily it became an extension of his arm. He hadn’t fought in ages, but the excitement of battle thrummed through his veins, and he looked forward to the killing of orcs.

The captains of the army, Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel, rode out and faced the new recruits. Erestor hadn’t seen Fin since the day of their confrontation. To look at him now was like seeing him for the first time. Dressed in his silver armor, his gilded hair unbound and lifting slightly in the breeze, he seemed to shine like a thousand suns. Erestor’s heart skipped a beat as he looked upon the ancient warrior. How fierce he must have been in his youth, as a captain of Gondolin. The counselor’s mind started imagining the scene, but then he saw Fin with the elleth at his side, both wearing their finest for the binding ceremony. Anger rose up through Erestor’s chest. His hands balled into fists and his breath quickened. Killing orcs would be much easier than having to deal with Glorfindel and his lies. So deep in thought he was, he almost hadn’t heard Lord Elrond speaking to the troops.

“Long has it been since so many have been called to duty, but our situation is urgent. Every one of us is needed to defeat the enemy. We fight not only for our country, but for our family and friends. We have all had to make sacrifices, and some will give much more than their service. Know that your efforts will not be in vain. Now, our captains have assigned you to your companies. The first names I call will go with Lord Glorfindel. The next group will go with Elrohir and the third with Elladan. Listen carefully, for I will only call your name once.”

Elrond went down his list, and just as Erestor assumed, his name was called. He glared at Glorfindel, who gave a smirk. Of course, Glorfindel had a hand in the selections, and no doubt he requested that Erestor be in his garrison. At the end of the roll call, he went to Lord Elrond and requested that he be put under command of Elladan or Elrohir.

“I figured you would want to be in Glorfindel’s company,” Elrond said.

“I think it is not wise that we be put together. Too many personal feelings could hinder either one of  
us,” Erestor replied.

“Nonsense,” Glorfindel said, coming up from behind Erestor, carefully unseen before approaching, “We are two mature adults. I think we know how to manage our sensibilities.”

“You seem quite good at turning your emotions on and off,” Erestor said quietly but with venom.

Lord Elrond stepped between the two elves, “Is there some kind of complication between the two of you?”

“Nothing,” they said simultaneously. Then Erestor continued, “It’s just that our ... situation ... is more delicate.”

“Very well, if you think that fact might interfere with your combat skills, then I will separate you. Erestor, you will march with Elrohir’s company. It’s settled then.” Elrond nodded his approval and went on his way.

Glorfindel studied Erestor a moment before he spoke, “I did not love her, you know. That is the reason I had the betrothal annulled.”

“Well, that makes it all better now, doesn’t it?” Erestor responded. “To know you could promise your soul to someone with whom you had no connection.”

“You don’t understand, Erestor, I was pressured to—”

 

“I don’t want to hear anymore. Please, just leave me alone,” Erestor said, cutting Fin off. He set out in the direction of Elrohir’s company.

Glorfindel watched him walk away. “Stubborn elf,” he said to himself, “But I can be just as stubborn. Sooner or later, you will hear me out.”

* * *

They rode across the bridge and through the secret passageway that led out of the valley. Soon they were out under the clear skies, but clouds hung ominously on the horizon. Erestor noted that it did not seem like a natural formation. “Some kind of spell makes those clouds,” he said to no one in particular. 

“That is where we will find the enemy,” Elrohir said, coming up alongside Erestor. The counselor had been long time friends of the two brothers, confiding mostly in Elrohir. The raven-haired twin could sense something was wrong, and not just with the darkening sky in the distance. “You and Glorfindel have another argument?” he asked delicately.

Erestor held his head high, trying not to look affected, “Don’t we always, Elrohir?”

“Well, yes, but this time it seems different. Your light does not burn as bright.”

Erestor looked around to make sure no one was listening. They seemed to be alone. “I stumbled upon a past relationship between Fin and another elf ... an elleth.”

“Glorfindel has had many past relationships. I’m sure some of them have been with females,” Elrohir said. “You know of his past. Everyone knows Fin could not stay in one place for very long, and that he accumulated many lovers along the way.” Elrohir stopped and put a hand on Erestor’s shoulder, “That is until the two of you became involved.”

Erestor’s shoulders seemed to slouch forward as he gave in to his anguish, “This was different. The elleth I mention ... Glorfindel was betrothed to her.”

Elrohir was silent and Erestor nodded, “That was my reaction also, before the anger set in.”

“Perhaps you were mistaken,” Elrohir said, trying to think of a reason.

“It was no mistake. I found a record of it in the First Age manuscripts.”

“First Age?” Elrohir said, “Such a long time ago.”

“That is not the point!” Erestor said angrily, speaking louder than he would have liked. He calmed himself before he continued. “That is not the point,” he repeated in a hushed tone. “I should not be discussing this with you anyways.”

“And have you discussed it with him?” Elrohir asked.

Erestor shook his head slowly, “I confronted him and he retracted like he always does. That’s when all Mordor broke loose with the call to battle. We have not spoken since.”

“You are very stubborn, Erestor, and I know you would rather not see your pride injured, but don’t you think Glorfindel has a good reason for this? And no matter what you say, it was a very, very long time ago.”

“Did you not hear what I said? He was betrothed to someone. He was prepared to commit his soul and his life to someone. That is much more than finding out that he had a relationship with someone. That would have been something I could have dealt with, but to think that there was someone else, someone he loved enough to bind to, that is more than my soul can take.”

“Then you need to tell him this. He needs to know how strongly you feel about it,” Elrohir finished. He grasped Erestor’s shoulder and squeezed, “Communication is a crucial part of a relationship. Without it, things will just break down until it is irreversible.”

“I fear we are already broken beyond repair,” Erestor admitted.

Elrohir smiled, “I have known you for a long time, Erestor, and I know you do not let things get in such disrepair. What you and Glorfindel have is something that some people search for endlessly. I know it might feel hopeless to you at the moment, but your relationship is not broken. Perhaps a bit bent, but definitely not broken.” Elrohir patted Erestor roughly on the shoulder, “Now, let us prepare our minds for battle, and put the rest of this to the side until later.”

If there is a later, Erestor thought as he looked off towards the darkening skies. But his face hid his doubt, as he looked at Elrohir and smiled confidently.

* * *

War came and it was a bloody battle. The enemy was thick upon the fields and plains of the outer borders of Rivendell. Erestor’s blood raced with the battle lust, something he hadn’t experienced in many centuries, not since his younger years when he served in the Imladris army. It felt good to have his adrenaline coursing through his body and his limbs, artfully wielding his sword at any black blooded creature that crossed his path. A thrust to the chest, a slash across the throat, no orc survived Erestor’s wrath. He thought perhaps it was a euphoric sensation, surviving by just the edge of his blade, which was quicker than any of his opponents. The silver of his armor began to tarnish as the bloodshed continued. Let them come, he thought to himself, and let my face be the last thing they see.

And then it began to rain. It came down in droves, heavy drops that soaked everything. Puddles formed immediately. The smell of blood and rain mixed in the air. Lightening flashed and the split-second scene was one of disarray. Bodies were strewn across the ground, and the living were standing and fighting ferociously. All went dark again, and the cry of a dying elf was replaced with the scream of a victorious orc. Erestor tried not to think about who had just died, but in his soul he knew it was not Glorfindel. He prayed that it wasn’t Lastar, who was somewhere in the mix of battle. There was no use wasting energy on trying to figure it out. He had his own life to worry about, and knowing he still lived filled him with courage and strength, and the counselor, turned soldier, continued on.

His confidence would soon be his downfall. Erestor, after wiping the blood from his sword, turned to find a rather large orc, scimitar raised high, and the blade coming down quickly towards Erestor’s head. He hadn’t enough time to raise his own sword to block the blow, but he had the smarts to spin out of its way. Metal struck rock and Erestor saw sparks where the scimitar bounced off of a boulder behind him. He tried to use the large rock, slippery from the rain, to push himself back onto his feet. Just as he did, more sparks ignited the darkness. This time they were uncomfortably close to his head. The orc cried out in victory, thinking it had the elf. The black blade came down again, and Erestor barely got out of the way, but as he slipped on the muddy ground, his head struck the boulder. A thousand bright shooting stars filled his vision, and he could no longer see what was going on around him. He flipped over onto his hands and knees. The orc was no doubt above him, its weapon hovering in a striking position. Erestor smelled blood, his blood, as it trailed down the side of his head. He still hadn’t regained his balance and he was out of sorts from the blow.

This must be it then, he thought to himself. There was no strength left in him to protect his life. He had been fighting alone without a battle partner, leaving his companion a while ago when they were separated in heavy battle. The boulder helped to hide his position, and while on the ground, he must look like part of the rock. He could smell the foul stench of the orc, could hear its heavy breathing and the low rumble of laughter bubbling up from its throat. This would not be a quick death then.

Erestor tried repeatedly to get up, but it was no use. He was dizzy, his strength had left him, and his vision was failing him. It must be a concussion, he thought to himself. But he would not go without a fight. His hand reached out to feel for his sword that he lost as he fell, but it was nowhere to be found. There was a dagger in his boot, if only he could get it without the orc seeing him reach for it.

Suddenly, he felt a large hand grab a fist full of his long brown hair, and his head was drawn back to expose his bare neck. His vision was doubled, but he could make out the face of the ugly creature staring at him, smiling its horrid grin, “Got me a live one. Ha, think I’ll take my time with ya before I kills ya. Ever hear of cat and mouse, elf scum? Guess which one I am, hehe.”

Erestor made the bold move to reach for his dagger. He brought it to the vulnerable place at the orc’s soft belly and thrust forward. The orc doubled and grabbed the weapon, pulling it out and throwing it to the ground. Now the beast was angered, Erestor was weaponless, and the end was surely near. At least now maybe it would be swift.

The orc held a hand to the deep wound, its red eyes meeting Erestor’s hazel ones. The creature bared its gnarled teeth and brought its weapon to the elf’s neck. Just when Erestor thought his immortality was about to be extinguished, the orc fell to the rain soaked ground next to him. Erestor turned his head to the side and saw an arrow protruding from its back, but not an elvish arrow. It was a long thick orc arrow. Confused, Erestor edged his way back until he was leaning against the bolder. The cold wet mud had soaked through his thick leggings. The rain had drenched the rest of his body. There was a chill in the air, and he began to shiver. Blood turned his armor red, and he knew he’d lost a bit of blood. He needed a healer, but they’d never find him hidden behind the boulder. Erestor looked up to see who had shot the arrow, saving him from the orc, but it was likely that another beast wanted its turn at killing him. His deepest fear was coming true, for through the heavy rain he could see a tall hulking figure coming towards him. Erestor had neither strength nor weapon left to protect him from this new foe.

The beast approached him slowly. Erestor straightened his shoulders and sat up as best he could. He stared the shadowed figure in its face, “Come and get me, you filth, but I’ll not let you take me without a fight.”

The beast stopped and stared down at him, cocking its head to the side, “I do love it when you play hard to get, but I’m afraid now is not a good time.”

Lightening flashed, illuminating the owner of the comment. His hair shone like gold, and his blue eyes glowed like two sapphires. In an instant, they were thrown back into darkness, but Erestor could still see the ghost of those eyes imprinted upon his retinas. Relief flooded his emotions as he realized that it was not an orc coming for him. “Glorfindel,” he said, letting out a long breath that he’d held.

“Rule number one, never separate from your battle partner,” Glorfindel said with authority.

“Bastard,” Erestor mumbled with the only strength he had left. Then curiously, he asked, “How did you come shoot the orc?”

“I saw the nasty creature nocking his arrow, and looked to see what he was aiming at. Seems he was about to rob this one of his kill … that would be you. So I slashed his throat, took his bow and shot this fellow here,” said Glorfindel, nudging the dead orc with his foot. “Lucky for you I still remember how to shoot straight, even with such a crude weapon as this.” He looked at the orc bow still in his hand, and threw it to the ground with disgust. Then he brought his attention back to Erestor. Glorfindel got down on one knee and examined him, “That’s a nasty gash you have there.” He looked Erestor over quickly, “Are you injured elsewhere?”

“Besides my pride? No I don’t believe so,” Erestor replied disdainfully.

Glorfindel let a smile slip from the corner of his mouth, “You must not be too bad off. Still have your sense of humor I see.”

“Just help me up,” Erestor complained.

He took secret comfort in the feel of Glorfindel’s arm come around him as Erestor stood, but he was still perturbed with the elf lord for the lie he’d kept all these years. As soon as he was standing, Erestor unanchored Fin’s arm, “I’m fine now. I just couldn’t seem to—” As he spoke, the flashing of stars returned to his vision and the world started to spin. Glorfindel had a hold of him in an instant to keep him from falling.

“Better get you to a healer. That wound must be more serious than I thought,” Glorfindel commented.

Erestor shook his head, “The battle must still be going on. You are needed here. I’ll find someone else to help me.”

“We have almost won the fight. The remaining orcs are on the run. My men can handle that. I’ll take you,” Glorfindel insisted.

“No!” Erestor demanded. “I don’t want your help.”

“Surely you are not still mad about—”

“Mad?” Erestor interrupted, “Mad is putting it nicely.”

“Then let me explain what happened, Erestor,” Glorfindel pleaded.

“I don’t care what happened or what didn’t happen. I told you everything about me, about my past, which is mild compared to yours. I thought you were honest with me too, but it seems there was one skeleton in your closet that you just happened not to mention. But it is more than that, Fin. There was a marriage pending.”

“Yes, there was supposed to be a marriage,” Glorfindel admitted, “but I couldn’t go through with it. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I loved her. I thought I was—”

“I don’t want to hear any more. I’m through here. I don’t want your help. I don’t want your concern. I … I don’t want you!” The words left his lips before he realized what they meant, but it was out there, and he couldn’t take them back.

The silence between them was unbearable. Glorfindel’s eyes bore into Erestor and he had to look away. As he did, the counselor saw a soldier from Elrohir’s company and waved him over. As the elf approached, Glorfindel took the last moment of privacy to address Erestor.

“Is this it then?” Glorfindel finally said, his voice sounding cracked and weak, very unlike the warrior. “Is there nothing I can say? Will you not hear me out?”

“Of all the times we spoke, you never once mentioned this betrothal. You had plenty of chances to say something, yet you chose silence.” Erestor took a deep breath to calm himself before his emotions got the better of him. He needed to get his thoughts into the open. “I know you have a past, and I have accepted that. You told me that no one ever matter as much as I did and I believed you, but I also know that you did not promise your soul, your very being, to any of them. Do you not see how it hurts me to know that there was someone worth that, someone before me? You were to marry, Fin. That is not something any elf takes lightly. You were willing to bind to another elf.” Erestor paused and forced himself to look Glorfindel in the eye. “Not once, in all our years together, have you said you would be willing to do the same with me.”

“Erestor,” Glorfindel pleaded, but the counselor put up a hand to stop him. In the meantime, the elf Erestor called had approached. Erestor told him he needed help walking to the healer. The elf nodded, instantly supporting part of Erestor’s weight, and started to lead him away. Then he saw the heavy amount of blood.

“Are you sure you can walk to the healer, Counselor?” asked the elf with concern.

“I … I’m fine, just a … a little woozy is all,” Erestor stammered, “And it’s not … that … far . . .” And with that, Erestor collapsed.

The elf helped lower his limp body to the ground, and looked back at where Glorfindel stood, “My lord!” he called out.

Glorfindel was walking away when the elf yelled for him. He turned to see Erestor lying in a heap on the ground, and rushed over quickly.

“He’s collapsed, my lord,” said the elf.

Glorfindel was on his knees, and looked closely at the wound on Erestor’s head, “Damn it, he’s lost a lot of blood.” He looked up at the elf, “I need to get him back to Imladris. He needs Lord Elrond’s help. Relay a message to Elrohir. Tell him he is in charge of my troops.”

The elf ran off to find Elrohir. Glorfindel whistled and a moment later, Asfaloth appeared at his side. He got Erestor onto the horse, and then himself. Holding the counselor carefully, he gave the horse his orders and they flew off in a flash of white and gold.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 

Glorfindel hadn’t left Erestor’s side for almost a week. He’d made it back to Imladris just in time. After collapsing, Erestor had never regained consciousness. Lord Elrond assessed the wound to the head, diagnosed it as a serious concussion, and began treatment. The great loss of blood was what kept Erestor in the sleeping realm for so long. His body needed time to heal and with Lord Elrond’s expertise, Erestor seemed to be getting better. Everyone’s concern now was the fact that he hadn’t awakened yet. A week was a long time, especially for an elf.

There was a knock on the door to the healing room. Glorfindel called for whoever it was to enter, and Elrohir came in. The elf lord smiled, though he looked completely careworn.

“How is he doing today?” Elrohir asked.

“The swelling to his head is all but gone. The wound seems to be healing, though slowly. I only wish he would wake up.” Glorfindel huffed a quiet laugh, “I never thought I’d miss hearing his complaints, but at least I know he is well when he is bitching.”

Elrohir came over and looked down at Erestor resting peacefully in his bed, “I’m sure he will be up and complaining soon.”

“And no doubt unhappy to see me here,” Glorfindel added.

Elrohir put his hand upon Glorfindel’s shoulder, “He told me about your falling out.”

Glorfindel looked back at Elrohir as he removed his hand, “He would not listen to me, he was so upset, but I swear I did not purposefully withhold anything from him. It was so long ago … before … before my death. When the Valar sent me back, it took a long time to regain my memory. Even now, I find myself remembering things that I had all but forgotten. This was one of those lost memories. Unfortunately, Erestor was the one who jogged it loose, but now I remember. I remember it all.”

* * *

The pain had been excruciating. As Erestor walked away from Fin, his heart hurt just as much as his head. He had seen the look on that unbreakable warrior’s face, and he had known that he was the one who broke him. It was for their own good, Erestor tried to convince himself, but his conscience was fighting hard to make him turn around and forgive Fin. That’s when the weakness hit him and the darkness started to consume him. Erestor’s whole body ached, physically and spiritually. It was all too much and the world started to fade away. His legs went numb and he felt himself lose consciousness. The last thing Erestor remembered was hearing Glorfindel call out to him with panic. After that, everything disappeared.

At some point during his private abyss, Erestor’s dreams took over … dark dreams full of the horrors of death. Streams of blood ran through the valley. Bodies littered the ground, body parts still wrapped in their elvish armor like puzzle pieces waiting to be put back together. If only it was that easy to fix the mess, to put the doomed soldiers back together and reverse the damage that had been done. But they were broken beyond repair. There was no way to fix death.

Orcs roamed freely, their curved blades raised, and their voices calling out in victory. A shrill cry broke through the crowd, an elf or so Erestor thought. But the cry turned into laughter, a woman’s voice full of joy. The scene around him morphed from death and destruction, to celebration and delight. The darkness lifted and everything was in color again. He smelled the sweet fragrance of flowers, and heard the chattering of many people speaking at once. Suddenly, Erestor found himself standing in a garden courtyard filled with elves of high standard, lords and ladies alike. They were all focused on one spot in particular, where a white wooden archway housed a beautiful vine bursting with blushing pink flowers. There was a couple beneath the trellis, and Erestor’s heart froze. The ellon was Glorfindel in his youth, devastatingly handsome and dressed all in white and gold. Next to him stood an elleth, whose face was difficult to determine. Erestor looked more carefully, but he could not see her clearly, though he could tell she was smiling.

Glorfindel reached inside his coat and pulled something out. He took the elleth’s hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. She turned her head away shyly, but the smile never faded. As Glorfindel brought her hand back down, he slipped a silver ring onto her finger.

“Do you find that your heart feels like mine?” she asked.

Glorfindel suddenly turned his attention to the crowd, and out of all the people there, his vision went straight to Erestor. The smile on the youthful face disappeared, but the love was still dancing in the corners of his eyes. The noise of the people in the courtyard silenced as Glorfindel spoke to Erestor, “I tried show him. I tried to tell him, but he has no faith in me. It is irreversible. He has cast me from his heart so that I am free to choose again.” Then Fin’s attention went back to the elleth waiting for her answer. “Does my heart match yours? I do not know, but you are here and I am here.” Glorfindel slid the silver ring onto her finger, but tears came to his eyes, as though he regretted the gesture.

“You bloody bastard!” Erestor shouted across the yard. “You never asked me this question. You never committed your soul like you did for her. You don’t even love her, yet you would bind to her?” He would have gone on, but his voice failed him, and he was stuck within the crowd … nowhere to go, no escape from witnessing this spurious betrothal.

Then, Glorfindel dropped to his knees, resting his head against the elleth’s belly as she cradled him. He continued, “I tried to tell him, but he refused to listen. How am I to rectify myself when he will not give me the opportunity?”

“You know how stubborn he can be,” said the elleth, but her voice was strangely masculine.

The color began to fade, and everything turned to black and white. Erestor knew it had only been a dream, a side effect of the healing sleep he’d been under, but he was still lingering between the two realms.

“Yes I know, and it is one of the things I love about him,” Glorfindel told her, but why admit his love for Erestor when he was promising himself to the elleth. It was all very dark and confusing.

The elleth looked directly into Erestor’s eyes, across the crowded courtyard, and with a kind smile said, “The two of you are meant for each other. Rarely has there been a couple so completely different, but so thoroughly capable of existing in harmony together.”

If that were true, Erestor thought, then why didn’t Glorfindel tell him about this one thing? Why had he found it easy to give her a promise and a ring when he’d never committed himself that completely with Erestor? And why did her voice sound so strange yet familiar?

“I thought then that I could learn to feel the same harmony with Taura, but I was so wrong. What if I am wrong again? Committing my heart scares me, especially with Erestor,” Glorfindel admitted. “In all my long years, I have been independent in that way. I’ve never attached myself to one person to the point that I felt I could die without them. I didn’t realize that until I saw Erestor lying on the ground and held his lifeless body in my arms … and that frightened me, Elrohir.”

Elrohir? Erestor tried to lift his mind from the fog, and realized that he was beginning to wake from his healing sleep, though defiantly. As long as he slept, he did not have to face Glorfindel, or whatever pain the wound on his head would bring him. He wasn’t ready to wake yet, but Fin’s voice was drawing him out of sleep prematurely. Erestor fought the urge and tried to replace it with dreams … with anything besides the waking world. In the meantime, he could still hear Glorfindel as he started to tell Elrohir his tale.

* * *

Glorfindel moved away from the bed where Erestor lay, and took a seat next to Elrohir. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and looked at the intricately woven rug under his feet. He closed his eyes and took himself back to the First Age, back to the days of his youth. Then he told Elrohir his story . . .

“I was very reckless back then, you see … too young and highly influenced by the friends that I kept. My father was a high ranking officer in the military. A lot was expected of me, but I never felt the pressure. I was born with a warrior’s instincts. I think the lust for battle has always coursed through my veins. In return, I was always very anxious to prove myself so that I could move up the ranks as quickly as possible. My father complained that I was too audacious, that I was unconcerned about some of the consequences of my actions. I did not see it that way, of course. I was set on being the best and doing it in the quickest way possible. That sort of thinking flowed over into my personal life also. I’ll admit that I broke more than my share of hearts, but I was never vicious about it.”

That kind of lifestyle finally caught up to Glorfindel when he was campaigning for the position of chief of his house. What was worse, it was his father who learned of a scandalous affair that could have ended Glorfindel’s ranking and the chance at holding such an important office. There was only one way his father knew to quiet such an amorous disposition.

“My father told me that I should settle my heart and calm my ambitious ways. If I had a wife and a family, I would realize the real reason soldiers went off to war. He told me I fought for the wrong intensions, not so that I could continue living a carefree lifestyle, but that I should protect those who loved me, those who I loved, and those who depended on my safe return. When I admitted that a family wasn’t part of my plans, he became angry with me, and I saw a side of my father that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.”

It would not do to have a captain of one of the Twelve Houses involved in multiple defamatory affairs with other ellyn. The position was upheld for only the most respectable and highly influential character. When Glorfindel learned of this, he knew he must rein in his wild ways, but he was not ready to change so drastically as to marry and start a family. Instead, he carried on with his natural feelings towards ellyn, choosing his affairs wisely, as well as keeping that knowledge to a minimum. It worked for a while, and Glorfindel was appointed Chief of the House of the Golden Flower, but the pressure from his father did not lessen.

“He would ask me constantly why there was no elleth in my life. I tried to explain, but he never understood the way my heart worked. So I told him that my lust for war was too great. To marry would mean to put the woman’s existence in harm’s way. What if I died? What if we had young children and she faded from a broken heart? I could not put someone in that position. I convinced my father that this was the best thing for me at the time. After all, it was true. My blood thrummed with the coming of battle. I was never more alive than when I was wielding my blade, or charging into a sea of enemies.”

It was on the eve of such a battle, that Glorfindel sat with his father and discussed this situation yet again. His father pleaded with him to finally marry, for he feared that Glorfindel would become too hasty and be lost to the world. Stability and family could only make him a better soldier, not rashness and abandoned morals. The idea of kill or be killed had ended the lives of more than a few cocksure warriors.

To ease his father’s mind, he told him that when he came back from this next tour, he would introduce himself to some of the most eligible daughters of Gondolin, though he had no such intention. At least he and his father could go into battle with clear minds.

“But my father never made it back from that campaign,” Glorfindel whispered as the memories flooded his emotions.

“I’m sorry, Glorfindel,” Elrohir responded.

The elf lord shook his head, “No, he died the way he had wanted to, protecting his family and his city. It was the most honorable death he could have had, and somehow I knew that he was proud to lose his life for this very reason. It wasn’t until then that I realized what it was my father had tried to tell me. I finally understood his meaning to die for a cause and not in vein.”

The thought that Glorfindel agreed to see his father’s last wishes come true played havoc with him. Though he continued to have relationships with ellyn, he knew he could never fulfill his promise to finally settle down. Had he not been the chief of his house, it would not have mattered so much. But the leaders of the community looked to the captains of the Twelve Houses to be righteous and morally excellent. After much internal conflict, Glorfindel gave in and reacquainted himself with a family friend, someone he’d known since he was an elfling.

“Taura was very beautiful … long flowing gilded hair, smooth porcelain skin, slim, well-bred and active in the community. She was raised in this way, to one day marry someone of high standing. The idea that we had been friends for practically our whole existence was an agreeable fact. So we renewed our friendship, and I started courting her.”

Glorfindel had to admit that it was an enjoyable time in his life. Taura was wonderful to be with. She was very mature for her age, very sensible, and very attractive. He found himself feeling more and more attached to her. She brought his heart great joy whenever she entered a room. Taura was very easy to be around. He never felt uncomfortable with her. They were the best of friends.

“And I thought that my feelings would only grow stronger for her, but they seemed to settle with the way things were. I was happy that way, but the fact that a betrothal was our next step frightened me. Taura sensed this and did everything to calm my fears. She practically read my mind, and isn’t that how a couple is supposed to behave? I realized that I did truly love her, though not as you . . .” he paused looking at Erestor’s sleeping form, “. . . or Erestor might think. I loved her in every way, but for the one way she deserved to be loved.”

In time, Glorfindel thought to himself. In time he would learn to love her as a husband loves a wife. How could he not? She was perfection, worth a thousand battles to survive just to come back home and see her smiling face. His father would have been so proud.

“And so I asked her to be my betrothed. She agreed, as though she had been expecting it, but was still jubilated by my question. We exchanged rings and told our families. A feast ensued and it was official. In a year, we would bind, and I would finally know what it meant to fight for a reason, according to my father.”

Glorfindel sensed movement out of the corner of his eye and went to check on Erestor. His eyes were closed, but they were moving rapidly. The elf lord placed his hand on the side of Erestor’s face. He felt a bit cold, so Fin pulled a blanket up over his chest, leaned down and kissed the counselor’s forehead.

Elrohir looked on from his seat and smiled at the act of compassion, “I think he is starting to come around, at least the beginning stages anyways.”

Glorfindel looked down at his wounded lover for a long minute before making himself comfortable on a chair next to the bed. “Perhaps I should stay quiet. I don’t want to wake him before his time.”

“I think you should continue. Maybe Erestor needs to hear your voice. He has been asleep for a very long time, but I’m not sure it is just the healing process that is keeping him to his slumber,” Elrohir said with concern. “Please tell me the rest, for you have me beyond curious about your story.”

Glorfindel leaned back in his chair, feeling more comfortable about telling his experiences from his youthful days in Gondolin. He’d always felt a unique connection to the sons of Elrond. They were compassionate like their father, easy to talk to and good listeners. “Well, as I said, Taura and I were to marry in a year, and it was close to that time when some of the other captains decided that we should take a journey to a seaport town. I had no interest in going, but they talked me into it. Taura seemed fine with the idea,” Glorfindel smiled mischievously, “But then, she did not know of the reputation of this small town on the sea.”

It was a busy place with ships coming and going, the trading of goods, and the occasional smuggling. That was what drove the captains of Gondolin to one tavern in particular. By day, it was a most respectable place, but at night it became a dark and seedy grog shop. Glorfindel and his friends made their way, and set up at one of the tables close to the massive wooden bar.

It was known that the owner of the tavern traded in more than just ale and the rare vintage. His nightly entertainers were not locals. They were exotic women who dressed in colorful yet sheer clothing, haram pants and chiffon tops that were much too revealing. Tiny silver bells hung from their waists and jingled in tempo to the music as they thrust their hips back and forth. Most wore veils to cover their faces, leaving only the eyes exposed, but the eyes spoke volumes to the customers of the tavern. The dancers traveled around the room, flirting with the patrons until the men parted with their money.

One of the dancers was dressed much more modestly than the others, and seemed to take an interest in Glorfindel. She floated around him as his friends looked on, smiling and jesting, reminding him that these were his last free days. He ignored them, of course. Glorfindel may have been a lot of things to a lot of different people, but one thing he was not was a cheat. He would never touch another being while betrothed, though he would allow himself to look.

There was something odd about this one dancer. She moved differently than the others, and wore less revealing clothing. He couldn’t quite explain it, but the dance caught his attention, as did the sultry eyes behind the veil. His friends lost interest and watched the other women flaunt their half-naked bodies around the table. Glorfindel, however, fixated on this particular dancer. He was happy just to watch and enjoyed himself as he did.

The entertainment ended, and those willing to pay the most were led away by the colorful dancers, to the upstairs apartments where they could continue in private. One of the Gondolin captains chose a beauty wrapped in peacock blue, waved to his fellow friends and followed the girl upstairs. The other elves stayed at the table with Glorfindel, and called for another round of drinks while they waited for their friend to return.

Glorfindel noted that all but one dancer had made their way to the second floor of the tavern, and it happened to be the one who danced for him. As a matter of fact, she had only danced for him and no one else, choosing to keep moving around the room while the other girls stopped at random tables. Now she sat at the long bar, alone with a glass of wine.

The elf lord found his eyes wandering continuously towards the lone dancer, her back turned towards the crowd, as though avoiding everyone. Then, she turned her head and looked over her shoulder, her dark stare landing on Glorfindel. Cat-like eyes drew into a smile, a dare perhaps, a sly teasing glance at the gilded warrior. He reacted immediately, blood pulsing with lust as the grey eyes roamed over his body. His stomach clenched as it always did when the blood raced to his lower regions. It had been a long time since Glorfindel felt such a strong reaction to another being. Even Taura hadn’t drawn out such intense desire. He was confused as to why he felt it now, and so strongly.

The grey cat eyes went from Glorfindel to an empty seat at the bar, a subtle gesture of invite that the elf lord found difficult to ignore. Curiosity got the better of him, and he stood from the table.

“Where are you going?” asked one of his friends, and the rest of the table look up to see.

“I’m going to see if they have something better than grog. It’s my understanding that a shipment came in not but a day or so ago. Surely there was a bottle or two of fine wine,” Glorfindel answered, covering his original intensions.

But there was one smart one amongst them who had seen the long distance flirting, and he spoke up, “You wouldn’t be going to see about any other exotic wares?”

One of Glorfindel’s closer friends of the group defended him, “Now, you know Fin would never do such a thing, not with an admirable elleth waiting back home, and so close to his binding ceremony.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” said Glorfindel, defending himself, “But I did receive a dance and did not give coin in return.” It was true. He had been so fixated on the dancer and the unusual familiarity that he’d not given proper homage. It was expected of any patron who received a dance.

“Let him go,” said another at the table, “I don’t blame him for wanting one more look before he is bound by matrimony.” He waved his hand in a shooing fashion, “Go on then, and don’t forget about the wine. My stomach cannot tolerate any more of this swill.”

Glorfindel made his way to the bar, taking a seat next to the dancer. He called the bartender over, asked for two bottles of his best wine, and paid for it. Then he took out a few coins, much more than one would have given, and offered it to the dancer. He apologized for not paying earlier.

“I wasn’t sure I had danced for the right patron, but something told me you would not mind.” The voice was strangely unfeminine, and Glorfindel narrowed his eyes.

“You are not like the others, are you?” he asked.

“I could be for the right price,” said the dancer, “And for someone who engages in that kind of thing.”

Glorfindel now knew why he had been so drawn to the dancer, for what he thought was a female was actually a male, “I’m sorry, but I am betrothed and I would not soil my vows.”

The dancer made a tsk sound, “Betrothed? Such a waste of a beautiful ellon. Tell me, is she worth it? Are you so in love that you would turn your back on what really makes you happy?” As the male dancer spoke, his hand secretly slide up Glorfindel’s inner thigh. The grey eyes smiled again, “And does she bring you standing so quickly and with such … firmness?”

Glorfindel was finding it difficult to stop what was happening, but he had taken an oath, and he would never abandon that, “I apologize, but I believe you have the wrong patron tonight.” His words were sincere, but the slight waver in his tone betrayed his true feelings.

The male dancer removed his hand and brought it back to rest on the bar top, “Too bad, love. It could have been an unforgettable evening … for both of us. Perhaps you’ll be back one day, when you realize the only one you have broken faith with is yourself.”

Glorfindel took the wine and went back to his table of friends. The one who had stood up for him patted his back, “She must have been difficult to resist.”

Glorfindel sighed, “You have no idea.”

For the rest of their visit at the seaside town, Glorfindel tried to put the male dancer’s words out of his mind, but they kept coming back. Had he betrayed himself by agreeing to this marriage? Was he betraying Taura by being untrue to his natural feelings? He thought if he lived the life and played the part that the rest would instinctively fall into place, but his instincts were of another sort.

Glorfindel had been so deep in the telling of his story that he hadn’t realized he’d moved from the bedside to the window. He turned to find Elrohir checking Erestor over. The counselor was beginning to stir.

“It won’t be long now,” Elrohir informed, “He’s starting to come around.”

Glorfindel rushed to Erestor’s side and took the counselor’s hand. “Wake for my meldanya,” he whispered, but the restless body stilled once more. Glorfindel sighed deeply, disappointed that Erestor was resisting. “He is reluctant to wake as long as I am here. If he only knew.”

“He may be asleep, but he can still hear you,” Elrohir said. “What is it you wish him to know?”

Glorfindel was silent for a moment as he looked down upon the serene face. “I wish he knew how deeply I want him, how fearfully I love him, how the very thought of him courses hot in my veins, and that without him I will have taken my final breath. Without him by my side, there is no life for me. He already owns my soul. He has since I first laid eyes on him. He is in possession of me, and that is something I’ve not been able to come to terms with, not until I realized how easily I could have lost him. I felt his fear on the battlefield before I even saw him. I shot that orc, not only to save Erestor’s life, but to save my own.” Glorfindel brought Erestor’s hand to his lips and kissed the palm, “And that, meldanya is what my father had tried to tell me. You are the one I love, the one who loves me, the one I fight to protect, and the only one I return to.”

Glorfindel sat on the edge of the bed, bent down and laid his head on Erestor’s chest, “I beg you to forgive me for hurting you. I am yours to do with as you wish. Die and I shall follow you in death. Live, and I shall follow you in life. Never wake and I will never leave your side. This is my pledge to you. With or without a ring or a ceremony, I am already bound to you.”

Erestor’s eyes fluttered, and his hand came up to rest on Glorfindel’s head. “Still, it would be nice to have a ring.” Erestor said, his voice cracked and grating as he woke from his slumber.

Glorfindel looked up in surprise, “You are back! Blessed Valar, you are back!”

“And not a moment too soon. You are starting to turn all sappy. Not very becoming for the slayer of a Balrog,” Erestor said with dry humor.

Elrohir came to the bed and smiled, “How are you feeling?”

“I have an enormous headache,” he complained.

“Well, you’re supposed to, so take that as a good sign,” Elrohir smiled. “I’ll go tell father you are awake and bring back something for your pain.”

As soon as Elrohir left the room, Erestor tried to sit up, but his strength failed him. Glorfindel helped him by readjusting the pillows behind his back. He stopped and cupped his hand to the side of Erestor’s face before standing straight again, “I missed you greatly.”

Erestor took Fin’s hand and brought it to his lips, laying a gentle kiss upon the knuckles, “I am sorry also, for not listening to you. It was unfair of me to send you away without hearing you out first. I was a jealous fool.”

Glorfindel leaned down and captured Erestor’s lips, the first kiss they’d shared in a long while. Erestor reveled in the feel of the strong but sensual mouth upon his. They parted but remained face to face as Erestor spoke, “And you still want me?”

“Of course I do. I have never stopped wanting you, even though you can be unbelievably stubborn, difficult, remarkably aloof and unmoving.” Glorfindel paused, “Should I go on?”

“I guess I deserve that and more.”

“There is nothing that you can bestow upon me that will make me turn from you, Erestor. You are going to have to learn to talk to me instead of pushing me away, because I will never go easily. I fight for what I want and for what is mine.” 

Erestor looked deep into Glorfindel’s blue eyes. “Sweet Valinor, I want you badly,” Erestor said without reserve.

“You can’t even sit up on your own,” Glorfindel laughed. “How do you suppose you would be able to move?”

“I’d let you do all the work,” Erestor said mischievously.

“All in good time, meldanya, and you will not regret the wait, but you are in no condition.” Glorfindel said, and both elves enjoyed the moment of peace and a bit of humor.

They sat in comfortable silence a while, each one finding their confidence after so long a quarrel. Erestor had closed his eyes to rest. What little he had done had tired him greatly. He was weak, both body and mind, but he was curious about Glorfindel’s tale. “So, what happened when you left the seaport?” Erestor asked.

“You heard me speaking?” Glorfindel asked.

“Bits and pieces,” Erestor admitted, though he had heard everything.

Glorfindel moved from the bedside to the chair, “Well, I returned home to Gondolin, to Taura, and continued my daily routine. I tried to forget about that tavern and what the dancer said to me, but I couldn’t. He had seen my true spirit. Something he said struck me like a chord, and he was absolutely right. I had broken faith with myself. I had wanted to make my father proud, to honor him with his final wish for me, but in doing so, I had lost myself. I knew what it meant to be a soldier. I knew the responsibilities of being a captain. My men looked to me for strength and leadership. They depended on me to get them home safely, and they knew if they did not make it back, I would comfort their families. I did not need a wife or a family to know I was important. Essentially, the city was my family, my men were my brothers. I would do whatever it took to see them safe.”

“And the elleth? Was she devastated?” Erestor asked.

“It did not come as much of a shock. She’d sensed something was amiss. We both agreed to dissolve the betrothal, and we returned our rings. It was all done most discreetly, and no one was questioned.”

“It sounds like such a difficult time, and your father’s wish went unanswered.”

Glorfindel smiled through the corner of his mouth, “I would not say that. After all, I finally found the love and the peace of mind he spoke of. It just took longer than expected.” He leaned forward, kissed Erestor on the cheek, and smoothed his dark hair from his face, “Rest now, meldanya.”

* * *

Days later, Erestor was home again. He’d been sitting on the lounge out on the veranda, enjoying a beautiful morning with his favorite cup of orchid tea while reading an interesting book. As the sun rose higher, the warmth upon his body made his eyelids heavy and he fell asleep. He took advantage of these free days while he recovered. Lastar had taken over the libraries, and if anything important came across his desk, his assistant would notify him right away. Fortunately, the calmest days were those that followed battle, which was why Erestor could afford this retreat.

He was awakened by a touch of wind upon his face, as light as the flutter of butterfly wings. Opening his eyes, he found the source of the disturbance, Glorfindel lightly blowing into his face. “Good morning, Erestor. How do you fare on this fine day?”

“Much better now,” Erestor smiled and stretched. “But you are back so soon. Have you not just started your day? I did not expect to see you until the midafternoon meal.”

“My schedule is less than the usual load today. I thought we could spend the day together,” Glorfindel said with a jaunty tone. He reached for the pot of tea and found it had gone cold. “This will not do. I’ll warm it for you.”

“You don’t have to do—”

“I don’t want you expending any excess energy.” Glorfindel gave his lover an exaggerated wink.

“And just what do you have planned for us today?” Erestor asked curiously.

“That depends. First, let me warm your tea,” he said as he took the tray to the kitchen, leaving Erestor to wonder what the warrior was up to.

After a while, Glorfindel came back and set the tray on the table. Erestor noticed right away that there was a chain hanging over the edge of each teacup. “What is this for?” he inquired.

“Oh, something I picked up during my travels. I had forgotten about it.” Glorfindel lifted the chain and pulled out a metal ball dotted with tiny holes. “The silversmith called it an infuser. It’s quite a new invention. You see, you put the loose tea leaves into the ball and let it steep in the cup. It’s quite nice when you do not feel like making a whole pot. And seeing as how you like a multitude of different flavors, I thought you might enjoy switching tastes between cups.”

Erestor was impressed, “That is quite clever.”

Glorfindel showed him how to bob the ball while immersed in the hot water. Then he pulled his out and laid it on an empty plate. “I took the liberty to start yours steeping. It should be done by now. Why don’t you take yours out?”

Erestor pulled up on the chain, but to his surprise, there was not an infusion ball attached, but a ring. He brought it up to his face and inspected it carefully. “Fin, what is this?” he asked suspiciously.

“What does it look like?” Glorfindel said placidly as he took a sip of tea.

“It looks like a ring,” Erestor answered. Glorfindel only nodded, and Erestor cocked an eyebrow, “Why is there a ring in my tea?”

Glorfindel set his cup down and took the chained ring from Erestor, “Because you said you wanted one.” He took the ring off the chain and juggled it from hand to hand, as it was hot from sitting in the tea.

Erestor remembered saying something of the sort, but he’d meant it as a joke. He didn’t think Glorfindel would take him seriously. He felt a bit guilty and not a bit disappointed, “Fin, you didn’t have to—”

“I did,” Glorfindel interrupted, “And not just because you mentioned it.” The ring had cooled and he placed it in the palm of Erestor’s hand, “This is not just any ring, mind you. It is one of a kind. Go on and take a closer look.”

Erestor examined the ring with its intricate design. Actually, it looked like thin silver wire weaved together with gold intertwined within. It was very unusual and unique. “It is beautiful, Fin. Whoever forged it must be a genius. I’ve seen nothing of the like before.”

“And you won’t. It is made from the silver and gold ring that belonged to my father, the ones he received from my mother during their courtship and binding. The man who made these infusers also designed this ring.”

The thoughtfulness made Erestor speechless, but he felt that he had forced Glorfindel into giving him a ring. He closed his fingers around the ring and slowly shook his head, “I… I am not sure I can accept this. I fear you might feel obligated to do this after everything that has happened.”

“I wanted to do this, Erestor. It is a new life for me, as though I have turned around a corner that I’ve been afraid to approach before. You see, the old way was that silver and gold ring, which represented how my father wanted things to turn out. But this . . .” he said, opening Erestor’s hand and taking the ring, “this represents a new beginning and a new age. I am still carrying out my father’s wishes, but I am doing it in the only way I know, the way that makes me happiest. Either way, I still believe he is proud of me.” Glorfindel took hold of Erestor’s hand and slid the ring onto his finger.

Erestor, stubborn as usual, protested yet again, “But… but this is not the way it is typically done. I have nothing to give you in return.”

Glorfindel looked up through his long lashes with sultry eyes and a fiendish smile, “Well, we are not the typical couple, now are we?”

Erestor stopped him from affixing the ring and took it off, “No, we are not typical, and I thank the Valar every day for that fact. Here . . .” he said, handing the ring to Glorfindel.

“But—” the elf lord started to argue, but Erestor gave him a stern look.

The counselor reached into the neck of his robe and pulled out a silver chain that he always wore. It was very simple in make, and held no trinket or jewel. He unclasped it and threaded the ring onto it. Then he replaced it onto his neck, allowing the ring to swing freely. “You don’t mind if I wear it this way instead of on my finger, do you?”

“I think it is much more beautiful worn that way,” Glorfindel answered. He moved towards Erestor and kissed him thoroughly, released him and whispered, “It’s getting warm out here in the sunlight. I suggest we move inside, preferably to your bed, meldanya. I never did receive a proper homecoming from you. You owe me, Counselor.”

“Oh do I? The way I see it, you are the one in debt to me.”

“We can work out the details between the sheets,” Glorfindel growled as the pulled Erestor to his feet. They left a trail of clothing from the veranda to the bedroom. The scent of rosemary oil wafted throughout the house, and a chorus of salacious moans filled the air of Erestor’s home.

* * *

Things changed for us after that. We were still true to ourselves … Glorfindel ever the adventurer, and I always the counselor. But he learned to slow and enjoy the quiet moments, while I learned to take more risks.

We never had a proper betrothal or binding ceremony. We didn’t need one, for our souls intertwined upon our first meeting. We faced plenty of challenges along the way, and still do. And though we quarrel from time to time, and sometimes most ferociously, there is one thing that we know to be true. We may bend, but we will never break, for it is our love and trust in each other that binds us eternally. Without that, the system we have created would fail, and neither of us is willing to let that be our fate. As I said before, happily ever after is something that happens when the bruises are healed and the scars have faded, and even then it must be maintained. But I can attest to the fact that it is possible, and Glorfindel and I are proof of that.


End file.
